Two Little Moments

The first, a funny:

Me: "Steven, which is your favorite Skittle?"
Steven: "All of them. I just get a handful and put them all in my mouth."
Me: "Really? At one time?? You mean, you've never tried each one individually?"
Steven: "Nope, Grace. I taste the rainbow."

 

The second needs a little bit of background. I work nights, and by the time I get home in the mornings, Steven has usually left for work. By the time he gets home in the evenings, I'm usually gone for work. The three nights a week I work consistently--Thursday, Friday, Saturday--are days we see very, very little of one another. But, how blessed am I? Because Steven goes home, cooks dinner, and then waits until I'm going to be hungry and as free to take a lunch as one ever gets in a  hospital, and brings it up to work and eats with me. Every. Single. Night. I. Work. After he's had a long day himself. This particular night, I was missing him fiercely, and dreaded him leaving. I must have gotten three kisses goodbye before I grabbed his arm.

"Walk me upstairs," I pleaded. He gave me a look, but, with little argument, he followed me into the elevator. I hung onto him as we jerked up past the first, the second, the third, the fourth, and finally clumped to a stop at the fifth floor.

"I love you," he kissed me again, clearly intending to just ride back down.

"NO! You have to walk me to my station, Steven!! It's just right there, look you can see it from here!"

"Grace..." he sighed, but complied again, taking my hand. We finally stopped right at the very last step that he could follow and he kissed me again. This time, I let him make it about four steps before I called, "Wait! You didn't give me a goodbye hug! Those are important!"

"Grace," he said, turning back with another look. "If you could survive on as little sleep as I did, Rome would burn." Because he'd been up for hours, and it was almost 3 am, and he had to work in the morning, and I felt a horrid little pang of guilt. My eyes dropped.

"I'm sorry..." I whispered. "You didn't have to come. Here, go home. I love you. Text me and let me know you get home safe." With a small growl, he grabbed me up in a hug.

"I said Rome would burn  if YOU tried to function on this little sleep," he told me. "I, on the other hand, do it all the time." And then there was his perfect smirk, a kiss, the all important hug, and he was gone.

He's so good to me.

A Poll, Of Sorts...

He-ey, everyone!! I hope you all had as merry and blessed a Christmas as we did! So many highlights--I can't begin to name them all!!

Will say, however, that watching the dogs open their stockings...that...THAT was hilarious. :)

Anywho...as my title today says, this is a poll of sorts.

As I mentioned sometime last week, I think, Steven and I had been discussing the possibility of moving to Kentucky. Yesterday, we kind of sealed the deal. Regardless of how quickly he gets his degree, we intend to move in two years. So, we have a little bit of time on our hands, but, it hardly seems enough to get good and started. After much consideration and debate and thoughts and discussion, we've decided that it would be the best move for our little family.

That being said--we've never moved further than about ten miles at a stretch. (Except for Steven...he moved a couple hours out, once, but it was for college, and he lived in a dorm, so I don't quite feel it counts the same as picking up and moving a small family...). As I think you know, we have a 2 year old Boxer, a 9 year old Great Dane, a 1 year old Doberman, and a 1 1/2 year old cat. We also have a house, currently, that we would prefer to rent out, rather than sell, due to some of the stipulations on  our lending agreement.

So. On to the poll: What should I put on my to-do list? What's the most important thing? How do you make out a two year plan to up and move away? What does it take to make a rental house work for you? What are any tips, tricks, or anything of the like that you guys would love to share with a slightly overwhelmed, but excited, Grace? :P Do any of you guys live in KY, or have lived there, and have any tips about the area?

 

We'll take all the info we can get!!

A Teensy Weensy Bit Early...

Everyone a Very, Very Merry Christmas!! (I'm sure I'll post again before New Year's, but I doubt it before Christmas.) This is my favorite time of the year, hands down.I love the opportunity for giving, I wish I could love snow, but we never seem to get any, I love the old classic movies--my favorite is The Year Without a Santa Claus. I adore the tree, and the reindeer antlers and Santa hats that both my husband and my dogs good-naturedly wear for me.


Most of all, of course, I love our "Reason for the Season", as over used as that phrase may be. I think it's the most incredible thing that God squeezed all His might into the form a little baby boy--the start of the climax of the greatest story ever written. It blows my mind, when I look up at the stars(we live kind of out in the country, away from city lights that dim their wonder), and imagine that ONE star could be so big and so bright that people could follow it for miles and miles and miles to such a specific place, and arrive so perfectly on time. I love the song "Labor of Love" because it paints such a vivid picture in my mind.
 
 I've posted it at the bottom, in case you haven't heard it, but here's the lyrics, also:

It was not a silent night
There was blood on the ground
You could hear a woman cry
In the alleyways that night
On the streets of David's town
And the stable was not clean
And the cobblestones were cold
And little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
Had no mother's hand to hold
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love
Noble Joseph at her side
Callused hands and weary eyes
There were no midwives to be found
In the streets of David's town
In the middle of the night
So he held her and he prayed
Shafts of moonlight on his face
But the baby in her womb
He was the maker of the moon
He was the Author of the faith
That could make the mountains move
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love
For little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
It was a labor of love

When the song says that Mary had no mother's hand to hold, my first thought is that she was being held herself, in God's grace and love and mercy, and that, such a short time later, she had Jesus' little hand to hold, and how surely that made everything worth it.

Blows. My. Mind. So. That was my remember what Christmas is all about speech. :)

Also--little side-note: SUPER stoked about Steven's Christmas morning...

We we supposed to get just stocking stuffers--most of our stuffers don't fit in the stocking, but we're pretending all the same... I got him some of the usual stuff, ya know: a game, Scattergories(fab, if you haven't played it), a stubby wrench set, a little bit of whiskey(for him, not for me!), hand warmers(he works in the weather...if it's hot, it's really, really hot, and if it's cold it's freezing kind of thing...), new socks...that kind of thing...candy, of course...but, my pride and joy...

And, it's cheesy, I know.

See this? It's me not caring.. :P

I got one of those cheap, frosty kind of shower curtains...you know, the opaque kind? And I started at the very tippy top in permanent marker and wrote him a Christmas note.

It had some Merry Christmases. It had a couple quotes, some song lyrics that mean a lot to us( I won't give up, by Jazon Mraz and Fall Into Me by Sugarland), some slightly risque things, of course, and then a bunch of things that I really love and appreciate about him.

All the way down to the very, very bottom....

Here's hoping he likes it, and it's not too much cheese... :P

And, here is wishing you all again--a Super Duper Merry Christmas!!

From Here To There!

Wow, but this year has been eventful!! It seems like every time I turn around, something is going on. Steven and I have been remarkably blessed through all the ups and downs of this year, and it seems we've been blessed yet again, though in a distant, slightly scary way.

Steven works for an oil change company that runs between where we live here in Tennessee, all the way up through parts of Kentucky. Let's go ahead and shorten it to Z. Now, Z is owned by a chemical company---Q. At some point, Steven plans on completing his Chemistry degree and going from Z to Q. Couple of things about Z: it's a phenomenal place to work, they really only promote from within the company, so there are lots of opportunities for advancement(Steven's already been promoted twice, and he's only worked there since March!), they look for reasons to promote you, they do tuition reimbursement...it really is a fantastic place to work. And it's great from the top(Q), all the way down to the very bottom of Z(Which is where Steven started--and where almost all of them have to start, since, again, they try to promote within company).


So. All that said, Steven had a big interview for a promotion yesterday. I mean, super big deal. They let him take an extra long break at lunch to go shower and change into business attire for it kind of big deal.

At home, I waited anxiously for the full hour it took for them to complete his interview. When he finally called, he was PUMPED up. He's the fastest promotion from his station to the next since their area manager has been a manager. His book(some hoop he had to jump through to get promoted) was nearly perfect. They adored him, in short. And, they asked him what his plans for the future were. When he said he was after his Chem degree, with the hopes of working for Q....they simply asked, "Are you relocatable?" Steven didn't miss a beat.
 "Absolutely. My wife is working on her nursing degree, she can get a job anywhere." (Just so we're clear, he didn't just jump to this without telling me, though I was slightly stunned when he was telling me about it yesterday...I had encouraged to go after a position in the labs. And, we'd talked about moving before--he knew I wasn't completely opposed to moving out of state.) The area manager for our area has called the one for the place in Kentucky they want us to go to. They said get most of his degree here, and then, the last year of schooling, transfer up there to finish and get a foot in the door of the Z up there.

It's kind of scary to be honest. I'm excited of course, and proud enough of him to bust...and yet, we just bought a house here! There's so many logistics...and it'll be at least two years before we go, so it's not knocking on our door or anything...but there has to be plans in place, and financial decisions made, and trips sacrificed, and so much to do to prepare for something like that...Of course, Z ate "I'm relocatable" up with a spoon. Especially with Steven, their little golden boy.

Still, the idea that, in a few years, we're living in Kentucky as opposed to Tennessee...it's a little mind-boggling, I think. My step dad said, "Well, Grace. I think it's good for young couples to get out on their own. You know, some people are born, raised, and die within fifty miles of each other...why do that, when there's such a big, wide world out there?"

It's definitely going to be an adventure...deciding how to proceed, doing it, sticking a plan, a stringent budget, finding a new house up there, finishing both our degrees....but...

I'm still strangely psyched about it.

And, I'm super proud of my hard-working husband, who's made a name for himself, all the way up through the ranks of Z, in under a year.

Way to go, babe!

A Heck of A Week And Coping With Christmas

(As in, Christmas is HELPING us cope!!)

This past week has been uber rough on my family. Thankfully, Steven's been great support. I stayed up late Wednesday night, expecting to work Thursday.

No sooner had my head touched the pillow Thursday morning than my Mom called. My Grams--the one with Alzheimer's--had been walking through the small community she lived in towards a Christmas Bingo Party and slipped on a patch of ice. Through some miracle, she had her phone on her, and she called my mother; then, she waited on Mom to come pick her up out of the street. Mom was at the hospital I work at nearly an hour before I was able to get there.

And, it was already official--Grams had broken her femur. As we were changing her and preparing her for admission, I noticed my mom holding her hand funny.

"Mom...what's up with the hand?" I asked, gesturing with my head. She shrugged, a little sheepishly.
"My dogs,"(a weinie dog and a yorkie) "Got into a little scuffle yesterday morning. I broke them up." When I insisted she remove the band-aid, it nearly took  my breath. Her finger was ravaged, and the whole hand was rapidly swelling, sending angry red streaks out from the wound and up her hand.

Long story short--they were both admitted within four hours of one another. (To top it off, Security came and got me around 3 am...I had three flat tires on the ground.)

 

AND, yet....

It's Christmas time. :) Which, I'm obsessed with, truly. I love everything about it. This year, Steven and I are a little broke, and, really, I want to get away from the constant money, money, money that Christmas seems to be leaning towards...so, I've had a genius idea.

We're doing a Santa Photobooth. I've made loads and loads of props to choose from, and, patient Steven and I have gone all around our family and closest friends, snapping photos. Some with props, some without--most times, we follow up the photoshoot with a game night, which is always a blast.

 

And, despite most people's reluctance to participate, I doubt if I've ever been so excited about a Christmas. At the end, everyone will get a Christmas picture of themselves, and I'm going to make a Christmas 2013 Shutterfly book to have and look back on.

I love the idea of gifting "good times"; I'm looking forward to the laughs as everyone looks back over their pictures, and the pictures of sweet family. It's going to be great! And, it's cost us next to nothing!!

Today, we did Grams, even though she was in the hospital. My "cousin"--more like a sister--and I took my "nephew", C, (one year old) up and a big Happy Birthday Banner, since today was her b-day also. She posed cheerfully with tinsel and top hats and reindeer antlers and a little red nose. She kissed my sweet C under the mistletoe, with me looking on, one hand over my mouth and huge, wide eyes. It was great to see her light up as she chose her props. Can't wait for our friends' photoshoot tomorrow!!

"And All The Who's Down In Who-Ville..."--Also Known As The Best Day Date Ever.

So, I decided to sit back, take some good advice(*wink,wink*), read my old blog posts--the happy ones!--pray about everything, and just....think about mine and Steven's relationship; where I wanted it to go, where I THOUGHT he wanted it to go, what I loved about him, what I loved about us, how I could more lovingly approach him about things that bothered me...all of it.

And, I decided to celebrate our half anniversary, despite how I was feeling about everything. After all--how many times have I said or thought that the best way to spite our pain and our struggles is to improve? I saw a kind of cheesy romance pic the other day, but I really was struck by it:


So, I decided--again--that that was going to be us. I reminded myself that, in order for a relationship to grow and improve, every day has to be a new decision to love someone, to build them up instead of tear them down, to look for the ways they are amazing, instead of picking out their faults.

For our half anniversary, I made an ABC card deck, basically. Each letter had a card. On each front, there was either a memory or quote that I felt personified "us". On each back, there was an instruction or a question meant to spark deep, meaningful conversation. I found as I worked on this little project that it was easy to remember all the reasons that I loved him when I was looking for that, instead of the ways he drove me crazy. By the time I got off work Sunday morning, I was super stoked. I couldn't wait to get home--I ran straight through the house without turning on a single light and jumped up on the bed.

"Steven, wake up!! It's our Merry Half Anniversary!!" I gushed. He opened one eye.
"It is," he agreed. "Good morning--did you look on the kitchen counter?" I shook my head and thrust my carefully prepared cards towards him. He shook his head. "Go turn on the light and look on the counter." And, there were roses! Deeply red and placed sweetly next to a box of chocolates. :)

We ended up going to ASL  2 and 3's play instead of really celebrating that night, so we moved the rest of the celebration on to yesterday.

We had a big day date! We went and got our tree, tied it up onto his little BMW hatchback and brought it home. Steven good-naturedly allowed me to play Christmas music, wear red reindeer antlers, and place a Santa hat on him while we decorated our tree. :) For reference:

 Our tree....

And, then, the rest of our date!! We created a Graham Cracker Who-Ville!! From How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It was a blast...please ignore any mess in the background...we hadn't cleaned up from making all the icing and such. :) Steven did it all from scratch!

                                                     Who-Ville

 Despite what Steven says, this is a cave on a mountain. It is. That square thing underneath--it IS a mountain. I promise...

 Their little Who-Ville tree.

 My two houses..

Steven's two houses. :) His were probably more Who-y.

Anyway, just wanted to say, the date went great, and, as always, after encouragement and prayer and thought--things look better in the morning. :)

P.S. If you decide to give this project a shot--do what we did. Put cling wrap over the counter so it doesn't make such a big mess...seriously. Because this...this was a mess waiting to happen...

:)

"Ridiculous"

  Feeling super discouraged and worn ragged today. I feel as though I've lost my temper in the strangest sort of way--a kind of cold detachment that's stolen over me, instead of the usual fiery red fierceness that takes over. Warning: This is long and rambling and doesn't make just a ton of sense. I just...ya know...needed to vent today.

I've reached a point in my marriage, and today, it feels like my life, where I simply just don't care. I go through the motions of the morning, the daily necessities: you know, feed the dogs, brush my teeth, go to class.

But, I was able to sit, dry eyed, across the living room from my husband and tell him I was ready for nothing other than a marriage of convenience. I told him I was tired of being the one always trying, always pushing, always willing, and if he felt strongly enough about our relationship, he was welcome to fix it, but I didn't care. I told him I didn't want to celebrate our half-anniversary anymore, that I was opening a new bank account, and we could go in half on the bills.

He told me I was being ridiculous.

Who knows? Maybe I am.

He told me I dug in a conscious effort to find reasons not to trust him.

No, I dig because every time I do, I find something. Some more serious than others, but all a big pile of lies. Always, always the lies.

A few weeks ago, it was texts to the same girl he text-cheated with on me in May of last year...and November...the one I found on his phone when he was sick last Fall? When asked about it,

"Oh, no, Grace...it's been ages since I've talked to her!"

Really, because I have phone records that say you lie.

Then, it was "Did you feed the dogs?"

"Absolutely!"

"Why are their bowls in the same place?"

"...."

And, then, last night, money.

Now. You may not know this about me. It doesn't have reason to come up often. I'm a HUGE anti-borrower. I hate borrowing. From anyone. Ever. Ever. I will go out of my way and live on pancakes six nights a week from a box half a year old before I'll borrow, even from my parents. If I can't go to work and get it, I must not need it that bad. Which, Steven knows.

Admittedly, we've been running a little close to the wire recently. So. What does he do? He borrows from his mom. Hundreds, really, over the span of several..weeks? Months? I'm not sure. (Just a side note here, his mom is broke. Always broke. Desperately so, much like my real dad. If we HAD to borrow, she was not my top choice.) When asked where he was getting the money from, he lied on two different occasions: "Mom owed me some money from before. It just happened to go in today." (I know, I know, I'd shake my head, too. I don't know why I ever believed that line of utter BS.) Then, again, "Oh, don't worry. I had it. There's always money somewhere, Grace...you just have to know which ass cheek to pull it out of." With a snort and laugh. And, ya know what's pathetic? I believed him, then, too--and I laughed with him. I am SUCH an idiot. I should distrust everything that comes out of his mouth strictly on principle.

I believe VERY strongly in my marriage vows. I made my promises, and come hell or high water, I'll stand by my end. But, this...this is miserable.

I told him today I was redoing the budget, to be one hundred percent sure that he never felt the need to borrow from "Mommy" again. After all, this sheds all new light on why he didn't ever really defend me when his dad accused us of all those things right before we were married--he was probably borrowing from them, then, too. Not that I think borrowing when you absolutely must is a jail worthy offense or anything--

But, certainly doing it without my knowledge, against what he knows are my wishes, and then lying about it...

Maybe that was just the straw that broke the camel's back. I told him we had an awful, miserable, sorry, broken, ruined excuse for a relationship, much less a marriage.

"Grace. Sixty bucks doesn't make or break a marriage."

"No, but trust sure as Hell will!"

And, it will.

I wish he wanted to fix it. But, as for me, I can feel it already--I'm emotionally checked out. I mean, was the relationship that I grieve over so often...was it ever a real thing? A thing like I see you all have? A real, honest, painful, communication, struggling, joyous, strong relationship like you guys have? Or is it just another one of his many lies? Am I just an easy way to a house and clean underwear and dogs and a fake little family with fake little smiles on fake little faces?

I'm giving up a Christmas tree this year. My first year without one; I love them. Green and piney smelling, with beautiful, colored lights and balls that hang all around; thick and full all the way around...no skimpy backs for me! My Dad taught me how to pick out that perfect Christmas tree. But, if we don't have enough money for "just enough lunches to get me through til payday, Mom," then, I don't have enough for a tree.

I hate this. I hate watching my ideals crumple up all around me. What have I been living, myself? I have to wonder.

And, then, I think maybe crazy gets passed down. Dad's crazy. And I feel that way, all cold and detached, and then hot, angry violence like when I drank a half a bottle of Jack to forget that he was talking to that whore again and smashed the glass against the dresser and watched as it shattered into hundreds of beautiful, terrible sharp pieces on the hardwood floor--

"It's not their fault, Grace," his best friend told me. "It's always our person's fault. Our significant other, my fiance, your husband...they can say 'no'. They don't. It's our person's fault. Always."

But, I was here this time. I was present. I only work three nights a week--he brings me lunch each night. I'm slipping right now, but I've been better with house work. And, I've lost a little bit of weight, too...and Mom's bought me some nice clothes recently, because she says she dresses me better than I do..and I wear my make-up every day...even when I was so sick, I got up once and tried to put some on, so I didn't look so much like a corpse.

Maybe it was just sixty dollars.

But, it was another lie.

Maybe I'm being ridiculous.

Or, maybe, he's finally just driven me crazy. I asked him at one point to kill me, while I lay there, crying on the bed. So desperate to stop this madness. He said he wasn't going to do that, he loved me; took the guns out of the house and went to work.

I don't really want a marriage of convenience. I just want him to take me seriously. To not lie to me, not about the dogs, or texts, or girls, or money. You know, when we were just best friends? We never lied to each other. We were honest. Always. So proud of that, so proud of being so damn honest it hurt.

There's a song, it's very dramatic, but it's one of my favorites, by one of my favorite artists, and it's how I feel...except, I'm tired of trying. I'm sure, though, at some point, I'll get my second wind. Or tenth wind. Or whatever.





                                                                                                                                                                    I mean, did you hear that? "Ever worry 'bout what he's doing? How it all turned to lies? Sometimes I think that it's better to never ask why."

"Ever worry that it might be ruined? And does it make you want to cry?"

Yes.

I really, really want us to fix this. I want us to try. But, if he won't, I'm not willing.

Which is probably wrong.

His friend told me marriage vows be damned, staying wasn't enough if we weren't working on it.

Do we have enough left to save to bother?

One Day...

One day, I intend to post again. I really, really do. Tonight is Steven's family Thanksgiving--I thought about posting about that. And maybe I will.

But, I haven't eaten since Thursday.



I got some horrible, atrocious stomach bug...as in, I went in to work, Pharmacy sent me up some anti-nausea pills, and I threw them back up and got sent home anyway.

I'm hoping today to be able to stomach some soup. We'll see. Sprite was a challenge this morning. Too much, too fast.

And, I'm not sure if it's the sickness or the lack of food, but everything takes three times the effort it normally does. A half-hour ride in the car and then sixteen long steps to the front porch and I was out like a light for nearly an hour. We watched Avatar on the couch, and sitting up that long took so much I slept for who knows how long after that...I feel like death.

BUT.

I haven't died, and one day, I'm going to get around to a real post.

P.S. Best husband in the world. He's been so good and tending. :)

Lovin' The Lurkers Day

   We, being Steven and I, of course, really, really

You to leave a comment!! We draw such support from our dear friends around the world through this blog, and we'd LOVE to hear from you!! I know it's a smidge scary. Really, I get it! BUT,  ???

Just a little comment!! "Hey" would do!!

:) :) Lookin' forward to lovin' us some lurkers!!

Ahem. That's YOUR cue.

:D

Mid-August, Way Back When

~Mid-August, Some Time Around 4 Years Ago~

My fingers tapped on the steering wheel of my poor, banged up little car. As I pulled into the parking lot of the small, state-run college, I studied my hands. Small, relatively pale, covered in tiny, barely visible scars from a dog...bites the summer before. Thick blue veins that stood out against the skin of my hands. Average length fingers with short, bitten fingernails. I flipped them over, considering their movement. My very first ASL class was due to start in thirty minutes, and the idea of being able to talk with my hands was strangely exhilarating. On a whim, I picked up my phone.

It had been a couple months since I'd spoken with Steven--a boy I'd gone to high school with. I mean, I'd gotten a text from him a few weeks before: a mass text of a car wreck, which I'd quickly skimmed over, too busy to pay it much attention. But, hey--I'd heard through the grape-vine he'd moved back from Nashville and was attending the same college, and, let's face it--who wants to start a new class all by themselves?

"Hey," I said when he answered the phone. "What are you doing? Like, right now, right this minute?"
 "Uhm, getting ready to go into my Chemistry class...why?" That was always a plus with him. The guy was never flustered; didn't matter if I called him at four am lost, or if I wanted to find a Chik-fila, he was almost always down.
"School just started," I said, ignoring the slight snort of 'obviously' I thought I heard across the line. "So it won't count against you if you withdraw right now." A beat of silence. Huh. Who knew? He could be caught off guard.
"And why would I do that?"
"So you can come take ASL with me, obviously," I shot back.
 "Grace...I sent you a text of my car...I was in a wreck, I broke two of my fingers last week."
"So? Take the splint off, you'll be fine. Come on, you know you want to! Please??" Another heartbeat.
"When does class start?" I glanced down at the car clock.
"26 minutes and counting. I'll wait for you at the entrance...you're at the other campus?"
"Yeah...that doesn't give me a lot of time."
"You're speedy," I said and snapped the phone shut. Yes, I still had one of those hard-core, heavy duty Sprint flip-phones. Don't poke fun. I break things..

Fast-forward. Move past the many hours spent trying to have conversations in sign with limited vocab. Sidle on beyond us, sitting on big, fake lily pads in the children's book section at the library, going through the kid's books, struggling to interpret them. The play we performed for the local school for the deaf--Beauty and the Beast, with Steven starring as the Beast, and I in the role of Belle. Push on past us becoming a couple, and through the first year of signed "whispers" and jokes. To one comment that so illustrates the power of words:

"Why don't we sign together much anymore?" I asked, looking into slightly distracted brown eyes.
"I dunno," he shrugged. "I just don't really like the way you sign. Like Fred said--it's like watching a flash-bulb. Blink and you miss it. It's too spastic."

That was the last comfortable signed conversation I've had with the man that became my husband. Now, I fall back on sign in times of distress; it's easier for me. Feels more like home than English ever will. There's a comfort in the silence, the openness of expression, the feel of your fingers wrapping around each word-picture. Think how it feels to hold a pen, to watch your thoughts pour out in ink on paper; then, times it by ten at least. That's comfort, there.

We sign, still. I sign more than he does, though less around him than anyone else. But, once a year, we sign something together. Last year, we did "The Three Kings and I(What Really Happened)" by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. This year, "What is Christmas?" by the same people, and probably "Mary, Did You Know?", though we want to be careful with that; too many don't use true ASL, and I hate the loss. It's easy to go literal with that song. I want the meaning, the interpretation--all the feelings and emotions in that story. Really, it's quite powerful, and I'm pretty excited about it.

And, yet--as we sat down today, intending to work on it, I kept noticing him looking down at his phone. I leaned over to look, and he willingly showed me--a video game. For some reason, I'm extraordinarily hurt. Not that I'm not guilty of the same. How many times have we been hanging out, and I'm in my own little Candy Crush world? I love technology in so many ways--I can order any movie, right from my couch. Turn up the volume on Pandora from my kitchen. My house stays warm when it's cold, and cold when it's hot. I have friends in you all, from around the world. But, sometimes, I hate it; I hate that lack of being truly present with another human being.

I hate that we are not interested enough in each other, in our lives and conversations and interests and quirks, to not need Candy Crush or some other game to keep us entertained during a little time together.  Not that we're miserable, or in some deep rut, or some horrible, dark place in our marriage. Certainly, you know that Steven and I--we've walked Hell and Back together. Pain like I've never known before or since, joy and love that I can't imagine topping. And, I love him. He's wonderful.
In the words of one of my favorite preacher's, "Your spouse becomes your standard for everything. They are your ideal. You chose them. God made them for you, just right for you. Not that you won't know pain with them. Just that they are the best for you--for your discipline, for your love, for your perseverance." And he is. My ideal.

I want a marriage that thrives. I want to spite the pain we've experienced together through a love that is blinding. But, like I told him tonight--if that's the case, there's some definite changes that need making. We're making it a mutual rule that phones stay up when we're together. I'm making it a personal goal to be utterly captivated by my husband. He's my world--I want to know it better. I want to be 100 years old, laying in bed together, and not have to ask what he's thinking or feeling, because I'll know him that well. When he reaches out and touches my hand, I want to hear his thoughts.

But, that takes two. It takes me letting go of words that hurt, and being willing to be more vulnerable than I already am. It takes him being willing to try with me. For us to honestly, desperately pursue one another's hearts.

I don't even know where to end tonight. But, I know I want to end with the sureness of love. So. There it is.

Dapples of Daylight, Take 2

Ok, so the first time I did this kind of thing, Steven and I were definitely in a rough patch, and our little fun exchanges were so few and far between, every little thing was a "dapple of daylight" in a rather bleak little world. I'm quite pleased to say now that we're doing so, so much better, and these little snippets are just pieces of our overall joy in being together. But, I still feel the name is appropriate--these snippets, these "he said, she said"s, are STILL the dapples of daylight that bring more light into our lives. :)

"You know, honey, in the Sims, you could just buy a money tree. Then, we could just go pick our money. I'd even pick the ones."-- Me
"Yeah. If only life were like the Sims. We'd be cleaning puddles of pee out of our kitchen, because we wouldn't go to the bathroom when we needed to." --Steven



"When was the last time you smoked, Grace?"--Steven
"Oh, gosh, babe, I don't even know! It's been forever!"--Me
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Oh, just there's a half smoked Black and Mild in your car."
"Really?? Where at?"
"In the not-so-secret secret compartment under your radio."
"Eww! That's been there for, like, a year! I wouldn't smoke that! It's probably got some kind of horrible disease in it or something, sitting there that long."
"It does. It's called 'lung cancer.'" Really? Man thinks he's soooo clever...

We were chatting about future plans, and mine were a little...well, big. And slightly lazy, I think, lol.
"Babe. I love you. I do. But, that time in your life where you can just sit back and just enjoy life? It's called 'retirement', and we're about forty years from there."--Steven



Brief history: I'm a little...behind...in all pop culture references. Steven jokes I was born under, and have lived most of my life, under a rock. And I got a bug bite.
"Grace, don't squeeze that--it's a bug bite. Nothing's going to come out of it."
"Clearly, you haven't had enough bug bites! There's poison in there, little devils. With mosquito bites, you're supposed to cut them and get all the poison out."
"...Yeah. I've never seen that."
"You just weren't raised in the sticks, like I was, obviously." (Which, by the way, he's WAAAY more hillbilly than I am...
"Oh. I see." A pause. "Makes sense, though. Must get bitten by a lot of bugs, ya know, under that rock."

Today, when he came in from the grocery store, he held a bag up proudly.
"Look, baby! I bought you some decorative pumpkins!" -Steven
"That's...great, babe...what do you want me to do with decorative pumpkins?"
"I don't know," he shrugged, still grinning. "But they were 99 cents and looked like something we needed."

 I should start by saying this picture cracks me up. Steven showed it to me, and it gets me EVERY SINGLE time. I was in clinicals, though, and having one awful time of it; I texted him.
"Babe, I wish I was home, and snugged up with you..."
"Me, too," I got back. And, then a second later, this picture, and, "So does Phteven." I was in stitches. My mom doesn't find this picture nearly as entertaining as I do.

I don't know if any of you have tried the workout Insanity. It's awful. One afternoon, while pouring sweat, and hopping up and down like fools trying to mimic Shaun T's movements, I gasped out, "I think he's very encouraging--don't you, honey?" Steven cut his eyes over to me, and didn't answer, so I added, "Come on! Dig DEEPER! Very deep, babe! Come on!...isn't this good??"
"Grace..."he panted, "There's a reason I played...football...it's because...I got to...HIT people...after I worked out. As...I can't...hit you...why don't we just shhhh, hmm?"

"Alright, babe. Back to work. Goodnight, I love you." --Me (Reminder: I work night shift. Three nights a week, he's home in bed without me. :( )
"I love you....more than you even know." Isn't he sweet?

He Rocked It

 My husband is wonderful.

Don't know if I've mentioned that nearly often enough, but it's true.

I love him, and I love our relationship--it's fun and quirky, and I know that this man was made for me. (At some point, I'm going to write up another little He Said, She Said type thing, just for kicks, but today...today I just want to say how special he made me feel.)



Today is my birthday. I'm 23 years old.

And, today, when I pulled in the driveway, he met me outside and clapped his hands over my eyes so I couldn't peek. He led me inside, closed the door behind us, and told me I could look.

A big Happy Birthday banner was strewn up across our kitchen. Bright, happy yellow balloons floated in clumps around the kitchen and the living room. Yellow cupcakes with sprinkles of all colors waited on the counter, a candle in each, already lit and waiting. Two new fleece blankets/throws were stacked up right beside, with a "The Princess Bride" DVD sitting atop them, inviting a date night curled up on the couch.

Behind that were a dozen white roses in a beautiful new vase.

(Aren't they gorgeous??)

I was so incredibly touched; it was sweet and romantic, and a bit outside our normal interactions, which made it all the more special.

"Better blow out your candles, before the wax gets on the cupcakes," he said, tone a little bemused when I couldn't stop hugging and kissing him.
I did--it was a little rough--I almost didn't get them all out on the first go! I managed, though, and we took turns licking all the icing off the ends of the candles. He then informed me he was making chicken pot pie for dinner(my fav!), and that there was something better yet.

"Close your eyes!" he demanded. This time, he didn't have to cover them for me; I did it myself. I heard the freezer door slide open, and had to fight the urge to peek. I mean, seriously, what surprise goes in a freezer??

A Chadwick Churn Cookies 'n' Cream ice cream cake goes in there!!

I love ice cream.

Like, ya'll can't understand.  Before we were being all healthy, I ate ice cream every single night. We never had less than three flavors. It has been my biggest sacrifice to the Health Monster. And Chadwick's Churn...

Oh, my goodness...

It is the BEST ice cream in the world.

It beats Baskin Robbins and BlueBell.

Kills Kay's.

Even blasts Ben and Jerry's away.

It is FABULOUS.

And, it, along with my husband, our furbabies, a good movie, and some chicken pot pie is in there waiting on me. :)

All that to say--

He rocked this birthday. I am so grateful for how picked, how chosen, how special he made me feel today. He's wonderful. Absolutely takes my breath away sometimes, honestly.

And, today, as much as I ever have, I'm so very aware that I'm blessed.


:) :)

Where the Heck Do We Go From Here?

Today is one of those thoughts are hurricanes, battering away inside sort of days. A lot of guilt, a lot of stress. A lot of just need to see it out in writing to even KNOW what it is that I'm thinking. So, bear with me.

Steven and I were married in June. Not new news. BUT, there were some things that went down that I didn't post out. I'm not sure now if that's because we were so busy, or because they were so stressful and painful that I didn't WANT to see them out in the wide, wide world. But, of course now, they're coming back to bite me in the tail.

Just shy of two weeks before we were married, my mom took Steven and his mom out to get Steven his suit. Now, his family is a little tighter with money than my mother, so she asked Steven on the way to meet his mother if there was a price limit on the suit. Thinking it was going to be rented instead of purchased, Steven said no.

Fast-forward. It was a great suit. It was not for rent. It was ungodly expensive. My mom covered half of it, but the other half was put on his mom's crazy sister's credit card. That night, the aunt was told that everyone was taking advantage of her, so she cut up the credit card, tried to stop the payment--made a big to do about everything. Two days later, Steven's mom--we can call her D--had a stroke. A pretty severe one. We found out she was still going to be in an inpatient rehab for our wedding.

I was in the room with her or checking on her(I work nights at the same hospital) nearly all the time. I was there more often than her husband. I put in her the showers, I stayed for her occupational and physical therapies. Steven came most nights to cover while I was actively working. The aunt--she can be B--called several times. She called Steven and his little brother, harassing, asking where her money was. If D was in the hospital, who was going to pay her?

I came in from work one morning to find D crying by herself in the hospital bed. I was irate. I went home and...eh, we can call it discussed, I suppose, the situation with Steven. That is to say, I yelled and ranted and raved, and he informed me that I was absolutely to stay out of it. I wasn't to speak to B at all, I was to keep my nose squeaky clean.

After he went to work, I ignored him. I went back to the hospital, where D told me that she just wished someone would stand up for her. I figured if no one else would, then by golly, I could. Furious, I went to her house. We got in an absolute, screaming, cussing, finger pointing shouting match. She told me I was never again welcome in her home, I told her to stay the f*** out of my life, my wedding, and if she held my kids, it would be over my dead body.

Steven was furious. I was spanked. I had to apologize. And, then, as he knew they would, everyone but me made up.

That afternoon, in the hospital, D was taken down for a test. I was there, and so was Steven's father. While she was downstairs, he proceeded to inform me that I had no decency if I didn't cancel the wedding. I mentioned that my mother had already paid for my dress, the venue, the cake, the bouquet, half of Steven's suit, the food...everything, and we would lose all that if we backed out now. He told me he didn't care how much money Mom had spent. That I had forced Steven into marrying me, against the family's better judgment, that we couldn't even afford tags for the car(which wasn't true, and I mentioned), that it was senseless and stupid for us to get married. He said my mom was manipulative, and if it weren't for us, D would never had had the stroke. Nevermind that she's already had open heart, a previous stroke, is overweight, and has uncontrolled diabetes. None of that had anything to do with it. It was Mom and me. I was hurt, I was furious. I found out he'd been telling Steven not to do it for a while. Of course, the family stood behind that. His other aunt and uncle, his mother, everyone.

She ended up making it to the wedding. But, those interactions have tainted every interaction that I have had with them since. I loathe his father. Completely and totally.

He would come to Steven's softball games, see me, and sit as far as possible from me on the bleachers, not making eye contact, not saying hi. The other wives asked me all the time, "Isn't that Steven's dad? Why isn't he sitting with you? Are you guys fighting?" And I'd lie.

And, his aunt? The one I had a little screaming match with? Thanksgiving is usually at her house. I've gone for years. But, she insists she's not eating with "D's daughter-in-law." Steven, of course, is caught in the middle. I have to work that night anyway, I think I just don't even want to go to a Thanksgiving--certainly not one where I'm so blatantly not welcome. During the wedding, my entire guest list came to me and asked if there was an issue with his family, since none of them would hardly "speak to the outsiders." I spent a lot of time covering for them.

He's out with his family today. I'm at home. Technically, I was invited to lunch; but, really who wants to go when you know how you'll feel the whole time? I begged off with a headache. But, now, I'm sitting at home, lonely and heart heavy. And, this is only the first year of our marriage...if this is our starting point, where the heck do we have to go from here?

VICTORY!!!

This will be short.

It will be succinct.

I.

Passed.

My.

First.

Nursing.

Exam!!

Not just passed, either!!

A 95 on the 400 pages of material--only about 150 of which were covered in lecture!! On the test all the professors said everyone would fail!

Second highest grade in the class!!

AND, due to unforeseen circumstances, I was awake 27 hours straight the day preceding the test, and I still rocked it!!

Steven's at work, and I want to tell him in person, so he doesn't know yet, but he's going to be soooo proud of me!! Super, super excited!!!

Chapter 113: In Which Grace Spends the Next Two Years of Her Life Sore and Steven Has to Refrain From Utterly Throttling His Wife

 I don't think I've mentioned it, but I'm in nursing school these days. I've been so excited to get started; it's felt very much like we're moving forward with life. Just think, in two years, I'll be done with that phase of school...

  What I didn't account for, though, would be the added stress...I know, I know...sounds ludicrous, right? But, seriously, I've been so excited to do it, that I didn't take in to account how it would mess with my sleep schedule, flipping between working nights and doing school during the days. And, don't get me wrong--I still really love it! I'm a total nerd, I know; but I LOVE school. The colorful highlighters, the studying, the focus, the scratched out notes, and the recorded lectures--the Facebook group full of more nerds just like me...

Unfortunately, when I come home, all the tests and the quizzes and the discussions and the dogs and the house and the laundry and the cat and my Dad's birthday and work and hard patients and the death of my heart's dad, J's, mother and dealing with all of that and the air conditioner breaking and the Emergency Fund depleting quickly just to make ends meet....it all gets to me. I feel that pressure, that edge, and Steven's the one who gets it. He gets the snappy me, the attitude, the narrowed eyes and thrust out chin. He gets the weepy me, the demanding me, the arms-crossed-oh-no-I'm-NOT me.

And, me?

I get spanked.

And, what sucks, is that I totally deserve it. He's been so good with me--all hugs and kisses and how can I help yous. He's enforced study time when I lose motivation, and taken me out to dinner just to show me how proud he is of my studying. He's promised a prize if I do well on my first exam come Monday. He's gone with me to study groups, just to spend time with me, even if I'm just spouting off answers and attempts that are about half wrong. He's been the picture of lenience, even when my attitude gets a smidge snippy.

But I just keep edging up to that line, glancing up at him, and tipping a toe over.

Aw, who am I kidding? I barrel right on over that line and don't look back. I take off running as far over it as I can get until he jerks me back. Then, I have all the good grace to look utterly bewildered as to how I wound up over his knee or the couch or the bed or the other myriad of positions I've visited over the last week. He keeps trying to go easy on me, to stop as soon as I surrender even just a little bit--and I'm good then...for all of five minutes.

I feel terrible about how I'm being. I know I'm being a total brat, and he SO doesn't deserve it. I have got to pull it together. I do.

And, yet, underneath all my competence and dedication and effort--

There's that sharp edge that wants to dare anyone to mess with me, much less to lead me. I want to toss my head and narrow my eyes and do it all on my own, my own way. And I don't have the first clue why, or where this rebellion is coming from.

Or if my bottom is ever going to not be sore for the next two years.

Ugh.

Fall Into Me

There's a country song that I really, really love. It's called "Fall Into Me", and Sugarland sings it. It's so soft, and so poetic, and gentle, and I just really love everything about it. There are other songs with that title, but this one...this one is my favorite.


Steven is so often my safety, my security, such a strength in my life. I have nightmares. Horrible night terrors that leave me sobbing and panting to catch my breath, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and trembling. Inevitably, when my dreams get the worst of me, when I can't drag myself awake, out of the depths of my own subconscious, there's his voice, and his hands, and his chest and shoulder, pulling me out. His arms that wrap around me, strong and sure, and so, so safe and very present.

He is so often my sanity. Working as a CNA is definitely a passion of mine. It's not my forever goal, but, for right this minute, I love the ability to care and give to people sick and miserable. But, it is draining. And, when I come home exhausted, frustrated, and upset--It's Steven. Forcing me to open up, to let him hear all the things that scare me, infuriate me, break my heart, or make me laugh. It's him, goading me into a better state of mind and tucking me into bed with our boxer before he goes off to work.


He's patience. When I just HAVE to call him, just to hear his voice--it's always there at the end of the line. Whether I call at 1 pm or 3 am, I'm confident he'll answer and respond to whatever nonsense reason I've come up with to cover the fact that I'm actually that needy. And then, it's "I love you, baby. Going back to sleep--I'll see you when you come home. Can't wait."

Our personalities are so opposite--I'm usually bouncing off the walls, distracted, hurrying, excited, spazzing, happy, hungry--in full gear until I fall into bed. He's chill. Nothing really flusters him, and it takes more than a poke with a sharp stick to make him angry. I panic, he's calm.

But, over the course of time, I've come to realize I want to be that strength(albeit in a different way) for him. I love to rub his back when he gets home, because I know it bothers him. I want to hear about his day--the people he loves at work, and the others that he...well, he doesn't love them. :) I want to be able to snug him when he's upset, to tease him into laughing. Corny though it may be, I want to be that song for him. I'm not usually a lyric poster---but, geez, this song:

 

 

When the weight of the world bears down so strong,

You leave footprints on the street

And there's too many miles to face

Without a few more hours sleep--

When the storm clouds overhead

Won't shed any rain to quench your thirst---

 

I want to be the one you reach for first.

 

When your faith is stretched so thin

That you can see straight through your soul--

And you can't find a nickel to buy a smile

Because your pockets all have holes--

You wanna shut the door and hide before

The day can get much worse.

 

I want to be the one you reach for first.

 

Fall into me--

My arms are open wide

And you don't have to say a word.

Cuz I already see

That it's hard, and you're scared,

And you're tired and it hurts,

And I wanna be the one you reach for first.

 

 

I wanna be the bottle

You been drinking with your eyes

Or the road you run away on,

You've been running all your life.

The third row pew that you last knew

As a child in church--

 

I wanna be the one you reach for first.

Fall into me.

My arms are open wide,

And you don't have to say a word

Cuz I already see

That it's hard, and you're scared,

And you're tired and it hurts,

And I wanna be the one you reach for first.

 

Before you turn the key

Before you fall asleep,

Before you drift away to fight

Those demons waiting for you in your dreams...

Before you, arms are stretched wide open,

Before you're reaching to the sky,

Before you're searching for direction

For all the answers to your whys.

 

Fall into me,

Oh, my arms are stretched wide open

Because I already see,

That it's hard, and you're scared,

And you're tired, and I know it hurts.

That it's hard, and you're scared, and you're tired, and it hurts...

And I wanna be, the one you reach for first.

 

 

 

Admittedly, I think prayer is something that should come very first, but my heart for Steven is this. That when he needs someone, it's me. That when he's angry and just needs to vent, that it's me. When he's sad, and his heart is breaking, it's me. That, in my crazy, all over the place way--I can be his strength, like he's mine. He loves me, beyond all reason. Through all my faults, in all my hard times, through accusations and fear and bad dreams, he loves me. And, I want to constantly be knowing him better, to find better ways to help him, better ways to love him. And, this song just really, really resonated with me. Love it.

 

Corny?

 

Probably.

 

Cheesy?

 

Probably.

 

Honest?

 

Undoubtedly. 



Blown Away

Can I just say, sometimes, my husband blows me away.

My real dad...he's a character. Honestly. Throughout my life, he's been a lot of things. A druggie. A hillbilly. An alcoholic. Crazy as all hell(really, certified and everything--he's quite proud of it). He's also been my constant encourager. He loves with a heart of gold as big as the whole of the USA. He always has something to say, usually couched in language more colorful than any rainbow.

When I thought I couldn't do it, he was there, telling me that he and my mom were too smart to have raised a dumb kid, and for me to get out there a try. After all, "What's the worst that could happen? You f*** up? Big deal, everyone's done it."

When I thought Steven and I were never going to make it, he listened to me rage and cry and watched me throw things and let me shoot far more than I should have. Then, when my hurt and fury was spent, he informed me that love wasn't something that was "fallen into"...it was something both parties had to work for and towards, and was a struggle til the day we died. He assured me that's why he had Yorkies and not a woman, but if I was quite finished, I should probably head home and work on loving the man I was with.

When I was dead broke, he told me that, if he had money, he'd give it to me-- but, as it was, I could join the club, and welcome real life through my door, and helped me laugh through the stress.

I was an oops baby, for sure. My mom and dad were already divorced; but, every time he talks to me,(at least once a day), my dad has told me at some point that "You were wanted. You were hoped for, and waited for. You may be a lot of things. But, one thing you are, always--is loved."

He tells me that I'm a blend of him and my mother, and married to Steven--and that makes me some kind of "unholy trinity"; he's one you just have to meet--and you can't help but laugh every time you're with him.

Now, my dad never graduated high school. In a lot of ways, his education level doesn't pass second grade. He's not stupid. He's not. He just didn't finish. Didn't figure he'd ever need to, I reckon. Now, though, he's desperate for a job, and he can't get anything without his GED.

He tried telling us he couldn't do it.

That he didn't even "have a base of knowledge for ya'll to work with."

And, ya know--he's on his way over here, anyway.

For Steven to sit down and work with him, work with him til he gets it. Because my Dad needs to feel like he's done something. He needs to feel good about himself again, and he wants this.

And, I can't think of enough ways to thank my husband, who loves my Dad, and myself, beyond all reason.

You guys were right--why borrow trouble? He's good to me. I love him. He loves me. And, you guys--you all are great. A constant source of encouragement and advice. Thank you all, so, so much.

When Ya Just Wanna Say, "They Started It"...

This could turn out to be a very long, rambling, confusing story. And, it's just as well, because I feel very confused, and very spent. I don't understand totally where my feelings are, or what they mean, or why I'm having them.

Steven and I have a couple friend--let's go with Marc and Jenni, to make it less confusing on that front. Marc and Steven have been best friends since they were little--they went through boy scouts together, we moved in together a week before they got married, they practically lived at one another's house growing up. And, quite frankly, the two of them are so scarily similar in so many ways it's not even funny.

And, then, there's Jenni. We all four went to school together, but ran with different circles, so I only knew her as a running partner in track. When Steven and Marc would hang out, though, they often wanted their women with them, so she and I started being very good friends. Now, though, I find her company exhausting. She's extremely critical, and it just wears me out. Before Steven and I were married, we were wrong because we were sleeping together before marriage; that was the first thing, and I could kind of go with that.

But, then we got married, and we bought a house. The colors were awful, I needed a folding table in the laundry room, the bedroom was too small, and she didn't like the paneling in the dog's area.

They are in the process of buying and remodeling a house that's bigger than ours, but is in far worse shape, so now I'm going about my schooling wrong.

I shouldn't be shooting for NP license after my RN, because it's 'crazy' wanting to work in a hospital for the rest my life. Also, (we work in the same hospital, doing the same job, mind, she just works days to my nights, 4 North to my 4 South), I should switch to days, despite the pay cut, because the people who work nights are 'lazy' because we don't give baths.

And, to top that off, I should go down to part time and make Steven pick up an extra job, like she's doing to her husband, because going to school full time and working full time is 'stupid.' Not that I'm 'really going full time. I mean, seriously, Grace, your school is only four days a week, mine's five.'


Her relationship with her husband also makes me sincerely uncomfortable. When we go to the men's softball games(they play on the same team), she wants to leave, and wants me to go with her. 'It's so HOT out here, Grace! I just want to LEAVE.'

"Jenni, your husband is batting."
"OH, it'll be over in just a second anyway, there's not really any point in watching. See, there? It's already over."

They get in these horrible, us-before-DD-and-then-some fights, with holes in the walls and coffee tables that crash to the floor, glass shattering to accent the sounds of the yells. They argue some in front of us, and it's always so uncomfortable to me. Steven and I have been talking about them a lot recently, because I've been less willing than usual to go help them set up their house.

Their relationship has baffled us, the lack of respect on both sides stunning us, and worrying us for their future. But, and maybe it's just THAT time of the month talking, but last night, I had the uncomfortable 'who are WE to judge that relationship' feeling. After all, he's cheated, and I've gone out driving with a guy friend of mine deep into the night, leaving Steven sick jealous. We've argued. He's lost his temper, I've thrown things. Granted, all of these things have been more than a little while back, but still...

Who are we to say we're different?

They argue, scream, punch walls, cold silences--but they've never looked away from the other. It's always only been them, since they were married.

And, what if I'm just deluding myself, that we're doing better? It feels that way, but, if you'll remember, the first time I caught him cheating--the post just prior was a huge breakthrough for me. I felt like we were doing the best we'd ever done, that we were turning a corner in our relationship...and all the while, I wasn't enough. Why is this time different? How do I know that it is? What if I'm just fooling myself?

Last night, when he and I talked, he lay beside me on the bed in the dark and kissed the side of my face. "We're working on us, Grace," he told me. "We're really working on openness and communication. Both of us. We've made mistakes, it happens. We're working on it."

I'd asked him if he thought we were going to make it, if we could do more than survive with our relationship, if we were going to thrive. There was no hesitation. "Yes." But, what if I had asked him that question last May? Would there have been hesitation then? Could I even tell a lie from the truth?

After a long moment of silence, he leaned his head against mine and said quietly, simply, "I'm sorry." A heartbeat, two, a breath.

"For what?"

"Hurting you. This should never have been something you had to worry about."

I lay in bed, still enough to count his breaths, thinking last night. And, you know what I've decided? For some reason, today, I'm hurting. I don't understand where all this is coming from. I don't know how to deal with it. He's been so good to me lately. He's treated me like an angel, tells me how excited he is that I'll be off more now for school, that he'll have my evenings instead of the hospital. That we'll make it. When I got upset over the money situation, he held me and rocked me.

"Just spank me already," I snapped. "Get it over with."

"Mm, mm," he answered. "I don't think you need spanking. I think you need holding."

He's been the kind of leader I've always wanted out of him...and yet...

What if this is all fake? And, I'm just too stupid to see it, just like before?

Shameless Stolen Tagline

I don't know how many of you read The Dish With Ward and June--but, you all really should, lol. It's always a very inspiring read; it seems often to touch on a subject that I really needed to "hear" right then.


Today, it was based off the tagline "Let's stop competing against each other, and work on completing each other."

School starts at the end of the month(I promise, I'm getting somewhere with this), and I'm going to only working three nights a week. Granted, they'll be weekends, but..since I normally work 5-6 nights a week... I normally have a fair bit of bonus and over-time pay. The more I've thought about this, the more I've stressed. How are we going to make it? Should I try to keep picking up? School has to come first...but, just HOW first? And, then, I start to budget. Not going to lie...I've budgeted clear through June of next year.

For the chick who's used to chunking money back in to our Emergency Fund(Savings), and extra towards debt, the idea of not having any extra is a terrifying thought. And, yet, instead of leaning on Steven, and letting all his, "Hey, we're going to make it. This is why we're going to school. It's going to be tight, but hey--you married the king of making hurt work. We can do this," get through to me...I've fought. I've snapped. My attitude has been in the toilet. I've been spanked more in the last two weeks than I have in the last three months. It's been crazy.

But, last night, I think we came to a sort of resolution, one that was only hammered home by June and Ward's post. Steven and I were arguing; I asked him if he needed to use my car for the next day's work. It's not our preference, either one of us--but, my car sips gas, while his chugs it.

"No," he said, stretching out on the bed, eyes half closed, ready for sleep. "I got gas this morning." A moment of dead silence.

"How did you do that?" I asked. Maybe he didn't sense the danger in my tone.

"Out of our account, why?"

"You broke budget!" I accused, instantly incensed. After all my hours of sitting and crunching numbers! How dare he! Get gas for his car!! What??

"Grace, I had to have gas," he reasoned.

"No! No, you didn't!! We had a PLAN! You were supposed to use MY car! Then, we wouldn't have NEEDED gas!" I felt tears threatening. To be fair--I'd called him at 2:30 that morning, from work, and asked if he minded me hanging with some of the work crowd that morning. In doing so, I completely forgot he was going to take my car. And, since that's actually his night time, he didn't care about cars or anything else but the inside of his eyelids. Can't blame him...I'm the same way during the day.

"You had your car," he defended, his eyes finally coming all the way open.


"That doesn't matter! You should have remembered to tell me no!" It makes me cringe to think how I sounded. Even now, hours later, sitting on the very sore bottom that tantrum earned me. Afterwards, he was very sweet, very snuggling, very logical.

"Grace," he said. "We're doing alright. We get paid soon, and we still have money. We can't help it when unexpected expenses come up. You needed to go to the doctor. You couldn't possibly have budgeted for that. And, we can't just not get gas because something comes up. I know you're worried. I know things are going to be tight for a while. I know you aren't used to this, but there are going to be checks where we're not doing anything but making it. And, that's ok. We're in college, trying to pay for a house and everything else. But, we're going to have to work together on this. We won't have a choice. We can't fight against each other, or compete, or throw around who makes more or less money. We're going to need to pull together and make this work. And, we can. We're going to be alright."

Much as I hated to admit it then, I hadn't been unduly spanked. I was perfectly atrocious, and honestly, he probably barely covered the offense. My stress has been working quite hard to shove us apart; I've picked up 4,5,6 shift runs, and will only  see him for several hours a week. And, as he reminded me last night--we're both looking forward to the shift switch. I can't wait to see him most nights. He can't wait to see me most nights, and to have me in the bed when he goes to sleep.

All that to say--I may need reminding later: but, for now, I want to work on completing, not competing.

Hugs and Loves for Emily

Jacked this picture from Susie, not even going to lie.

Heart breaking for Christina and Jim and Emily. Sending my thoughts and prayers and warm feelings and loves to that family!!

I know this has made for a rough fourth of July for them, and I'm praying that things will start looking up in a huge way, starting with today. May little Emily be blessed in every way, and come busting out of that ICU, wanting to know why she just can't have a bear in real life.

Loves.

I Must Have Been Blind

After some of my favorite bloggers went quiet, I guess I opened my eyes and looked around. I'd seen mention of an article, but, since everyone who mentioned seemed to be violently opposed to it, I felt I should just ignore it and move on. After all, for all of our differences and different places and different writing styles, we're a tough little community.

I don't doubt that I have friends here who support me.

I don't doubt that, while he's certainly not always been perfect, I have friends here who support my husband.

Likewise, our journey--both the journey of marriage itself, the journey of relationship itself, and our bumpy road of DD.

I assumed that this article would be blown off with a ferocity. After all, what did it really have to do with us? With our little community that shares its ups and downs and worries and fears and joys?

I underestimated. I didn't realize the extent of damage an article could do. After seeing it churn up the community that I love, I decided to see what it was all about.

I was appalled. Sickened. Disgusted. That woman's lack of research--or her prejudice towards the research she had--was striking. I was furious, upset. I still am.

I couldn't decide if I wanted to go private with my own blog. After all, the immediate, gut reaction is to grab up all the writings of your life, the things that share your struggles, and put your most difficult moments on show, and tuck it away.

After some deliberation, I've decided, at least for the moment, to not respond that way. I completely understand and support the members that have. I, however, feel that, for myself, that would be letting this stranger win over me. There are others who've struggled like I have. Who have been cheated on, and who have used DD as a tool towards working through that and other problems and towards a better and more peaceful marriage. Who want to use DD as a tool towards a stronger relationship. Domestic Harmony, as one of my favorite bloggers put it. And, for them, I want to leave my blog up. I know how much strength and encouragement I derived over the years from reading others' and seeing, "oh, wow, hey, they've been there! Look, they can't hold still, either! Man, her husband made a mistake...but, she forgave him, and they were able to move forward, stronger."

I need to talk to my husband about this whole situation. He's at work, and I've not had a chance to discuss this situation with him. But, I wanted, first and foremost, to say that this is my heart for blogland:

That we would take this like we do any other struggle and prejudice thrown our way and move on stronger.

That we would band together as a community and support one another.

That there would be healing for the hurt and damage this stupid article has done.

I'm not sure whether or not I'll be allowed after talking to Steven to stay public. As always, feel free to shoot me an email.

And, more important than all that stupid article nonsense---

Thinking about Christina and her beautiful family, and sending all good thoughts and encouragement and prayers her way.

Loves!